


An Unkindness

by katwalking



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Melancholy, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9189902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katwalking/pseuds/katwalking
Summary: The goalie situation is not ideal; Patric tries not to dwell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hockey Gen Fic Challenge. Prompts Used: Ravens, Crows and Birds of Ill Omen; Desert; Patric Hornqvist.

Cully says, “Ravens are more solitary than crows,” voice even, mild. 

Patric looks up from his stick. The tape is uneven, but he doesn't feel like redoing it. Cully’s watching Flower and Matty. They're not doing anything particularly interesting, just sitting side by side in their stalls. Flower’s talking, animatedly, to Tanger and Matty’s sitting, almost unnaturally still and focused, hands crossed in front of him, head tipped down. 

“Seems like,” Patric says. He bites the end off of his stick tape. Geno slaps his head as he stomps by. Geno's affection is nearly always painful. Patric says, “Hey,” halfheartedly. Geno flips him off. 

“The boys are learning about bird-shifters this week, next week: bears.” Cully’s mouth curls up at the edges like it often does when he’s talking about his sons. 

“Well,” Patric says, “Kuni will love that.” Two weeks ago, Maureen arrived at practice pushing a stroller with a chubby bear cub strapped inside. Aubrey, apparently, was going through an “all bear” phase. Practice was mostly a wash after that; Geno and Sid spent most of the time making silly faces at Aubrey behind Sully’s back and trying to get her to wave her tiny paws at them. They all ended up skating wind sprints, but it was worth it. 

“It took Bridget three days to convince the boys asking Flower for a feather would be rude,” Cully pauses and shakes his head.

“And,” Patric prompts. 

“So, they asked Matty for one instead,” Cully says, ruefully. "He politely turned them down."

Patric grins at him, but then Sully sweeps into the room with his game face on and the time for idle chatter is over.

**

After Matty starts and wins his fourth game in a row, Patric googles: Do crows live in the desert?

They do, but it doesn't make Patric happy.

**

Matty loses the fifth game in a shootout, the first of a back to back. Flower gets the starter’s net for morning practice.

Patric skates lazily around the net, occasionally batting stray pucks away from the front. Flower tracks him out of the corner of his eyes, but doesn’t say anything until Patric drifts in close enough to touch. 

“Yes, Horny?” he says and Patric shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

Flower cuts his eyes at him and kicks away a shot from Shearsy. Sully blows his whistle and Patric smiles at Flower before taking his place in line for drills.

**

Van Riemsdyk puts a skate to Flower’s throat and Patric is just about done with this season and it's not even the halfway point yet. The only thing stopping a complete meltdown is the fact Flower doesn’t seem too alarmed and comes back into the game only a little worse for wear. 7 stitches worse for the wear.

Malin calls him after the game while Patric’s lying fully dressed on the bed. “Bella’s asleep,” she says, before Patric can ask after her. Patric makes a dismayed face at the phone.

“I hate talking on the phone.” He scratches his neck, itchy and uncomfortable beneath his starched button up. 

“I know,” Malin says. Her voice sounds different outside his head, ever so slightly distorted by air and bone. “You’re unhappy.”

The only thing good about the game was the fact Flower played and was able to finish it. 

“I’m okay,” Patric says, staring up at the hotel ceiling. 

“Hmm,” Malin hums and Patric can feel her incredulousness even across the miles separating them. 

Patric picks at the comforter beneath him. “I don’t want Flower to go.”

“You’re friends,” Malin says, easily, “but trades happen.” Malin hadn’t been thrilled with leaving Nashville, being uprooted from her circle of friends, having to fit into a new hierarchy of wives and girlfriends.

“Flower’s been in Pittsburgh longer than anyone except Sid.” The trade deadline is drawing closer with each day. Maybe Patric will feel better once it happens, when the uncertainty is no longer hanging over the team. 

“I think,” Malin says, “you should change out of your suit and go to sleep.”

Warmth blooms behind Patric’s sternum. It’s amazing to be known so well. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” Malin says and ends the call.

**

Carl wants to go shopping in New York. Patric goes with him. Suffers good-naturedly through Carl trying on a million pairs of shoes and fondling a hundred ties.

A store front full of colored glass catches Patric’s eye as Carl strolls determinedly along. “Wait,” Patric says, and Carl pauses beside him. 

The store is blessedly warm inside and Carl is silent as Patric wanders the small aisles filled with delicate trinkets. The tiny lady behind the counter keeps a weathered eye on them, two oversized men. 

Patrick picks up a smooth blue oval shot through with gold. It’s fits neatly into the palm of his hand and warms quickly to his touch.

Carl leans in close, peering around Patric’s shoulder. “Pretty,” Carl says. “For Malin?”

“Flower,” Patric says, absently. Flower’s attraction to pretty, shiny things well known in the Pittsburgh locker room. 

“You never bring me gifts,” Carl says. 

He rolls his eyes and heads up to the counter. “I feed you all the time, drive you everywhere.”

**

Patrick leaves the bauble in Flower’s stall. Sid gives him a thoughtful look, but holds his peace.

Flower makes a soft, pleased noise when he finds the polished glass. He plays with it while Sully draws on the whiteboard. Patric catches sight of it on the bench as the Rangers try to take advantage of their depleted d-line.

**

Bella has her own tiny skates for the Christmas party this year, but Patric still spends the majority of the time skating in slow circles with her in his arms.

 _Bring her to me._

Patric glances to the side of the rink and Malin holds out her hands. _Time to eat?_ He raises his eyebrows in question. 

Malin smiles and kisses Bella’s delighted face when Patric hands her over. _Time to eat_ , she confirms. 

The line for food is blessedly short. They settle at one of the large tables fitted with a high chair. Bella’s smearing her face with marshmallow and sweet potato when Flower says, “It’s odd, no?” from Patric’s left. 

Flower’s standing, holding Scarlett, sleepy eyed, against his shoulder. 

“What’s odd?” Patric says, touching Scarlett’s tiny button nose. She buries her face in Flower’s neck, shy.

“How quiet you are around your family.” Flower waves a hand. “I’m used to you always talk, chirp.”

Malin says, “Oh, he is forever talking,” and taps her temple, “no peace.”

 _Hush, you_. Patric scowls at her and she smiles.

“See,” she says aloud to Flower and Bella echoes her.

Flower smiles back at her and Bella. “I see,” he directs to Bella. He reaches into his bang and pulls on a strand of hair; Bella watches wide eyed as the strand becomes a glossy, midnight black feather. Flower holds it out to her and she grabs it with a sticky hand. 

“Oh, no,” Milan says, “it’ll get dirty.”

“They clean easy,” Flower says. “We are supposed to be getting cake for Maman.” He smiles again, rocking Scarlett gently. “We’ll let you eat.”

 _See?_ Patric takes the feather from Bella and wipes the stem with a napkin. Malin places it carefully in her purse. 

_Friendships aren’t based on proximity._

Patric nods.

**

The television’s on low, but Patric can hear perfectly well when Milbury says, “The trade deadline is looming and Pittsburgh still has a murder in net.”

He helps Bella stack another block. _Don’t listen to him, Bella. Crows and Ravens are not the same._ Bella hands him a blue block to put on top of the orange one. _A flock of ravens is a conspiracy._


End file.
